A man A slave A prisoner
by Fenrize
Summary: As my eyes begin to adjust to the sudden light change, I realize with a slight tremble. There's a fucking Big Daddy staring at me bleeding on the floor.


The Splicer had got me good this time. The buckshot had luckily missed the vital organs, but still caused my side to bleed furiously. I grab at it, desperate to hold off the flow, gritting my teeth in agony. I was out of first-aid packs, and I knew I need to find some, quick. Even though the Vita-Chambers have kept me on this side, there was always the chance it could fail to do so. I had no idea how they worked. The world was spinning around me, and sweat was rolling across my temple.

I had to get catch Fontaine, no matter what. I wasn't here, there's no knowing what he would do to Tenenbaum and the sisters. I give a bloody cough. Taking in account his earlier taunts; yeah, nothing good.

I scramble in my attempt to keep going. The blood loss was starting to get dire. I lean my hand against the wall, trying to stay upright. Before my mind has the time to register anything, I find myself on the floor.

Sitting up, I press against my side again, stifling a wince. My breathing is hard and wheezing, and my heart is stammering against my chest. My body felt too heavy, there was no way I was going to get up.

Undecided time spent on getting shot and mauled, the lack of sleep and living on candy bars and cake does that to you. I remember taking a short nap in the plane, but that feels too faraway time at the moment. God knows how long it had been since then. It was next to impossible to tell time in this place.

I spit the excessive liquid out of my mouth. Bleeding to death wasn't what I was looking forward to. Again.

I make myself as comfortable as anyone could in my situation. I can feel myself drift away for a second, but then I shake myself awake when I hear a loud noises somewhere far away. At least, it seemed to come somewhere far away from me. I couldn't be too sure. I strain to listen through the throbbing in my ears, anything to identify the source of the noise. I was sure it was a Big Daddy. Was there still a little sister left?

My surroundings were dead quiet, but for the thundering footsteps growing ever closer. I close my eyes for a second. Closer and closer and closer. I realize whatever thing it is, it's coming right towards me. My instincts scream at me to hide, to run. But there was nowhere I could go. I can barely sit up. So there I am, lying in the pool of my own blood my eyes tightly shut.

It stops right in front of me. I held my breath, too scared to let out a noise. There is something though. Something should have happened already. What's going?

I gather the courage and I open my eyes slow. I look up only to end up not seeing anything. Something very bright was aimed straight at my face, causing me to squint. I lift my arm to block it out of my eyes. I swear my heart took a double take as all I could see is a huge, dark silhouette standing in front of me. As my eyes begin to adjust to the sudden light change, I realize with a slight tremble. There's a fucking Big Daddy staring at me bleeding on the floor.

I could say with conviction that I had never been comfortable with the idea of a Big Daddy in my personal space. A drill buried in my midriff was something I wanted to avoid at all costs. There had been a few close calls, okay, a few deaths by it, but the less deaths the better.

I was derailing again. The blood loss was making thinking hard, and thought processes were confusing. Now on to the subject at hand. I glance up. What exactly made the thing.. Do, what it was currently doing.

"..Uhh..Hey?", I groan, feeling dumb. My throat was burning. Shitload of stress smoking and not talking to anyone in a while would do that. The man in the diving suit moved slightly, seeming to shifting his weight on other leg. Then he tilted his head. I freeze down to the spot. Was he able to understand what I was saying? The idea struck me as absurd. There was no Big Daddies with free will nor comprehension of their surroundings.

I wasn't sure if it was the blood loss that was clouding up my common sense, but I smirk at the creature looming over me.

"So..", I cough. "Fetch me a medkit, would'ya?", I wheeze under my breath, half-joking. It doesn't give any reaction to it, and I wasn't expecting it to. At first it seems like the Big Daddy would keep staring at me, but then it turns and leaves. I hear the stomping going to the direction that it had came from. I huff under my breath, closing my eyes once again. Alright then. I curse under my breath. Death never seemed to come fast enough. Liquid is slowly filling my lungs. It makes me hack a cough from the feeling of drowning, and it makes me panic. With a painful I cough it up, staining the front of my sweater.

I hear faraway screaming from the direction of the giant's route. Huh. Guess they're not going to be any trouble now.

I close my eyes again. This was taking way too long. The pain in my gut wasn't getting any better either. I wondered if I could 'help' speed up the situation. With trembling hands I pull out the pistol from my pocket. I check the cylinder only to find three empty shells.

Shit.

I toss the them on the floor next to me. I lean back against the wall, and draw a deep breath. The idea of pummeling myself to death with the wrench came into mind, but I brush it off as plain stupid. I didn't want to make the pain worse. Also, there was a chance that I wouldn't die and instead ending up with a brain damage didn't sound all that inviting.

Then my head jerks up causing my headache getting worse as I hear those footsteps again. I glance at the door way to see him again. Like he had done before, he stops in front of me. I watch him kneel down next to me holding something and I almost choke with realization. He had actually gone to find a medkit for me.

He opens the lid of the container with his huge, clumsy hands and sets it on my lap. My mind isn't registering it, as I'm too busy staring at the creature with awe. I can hear him breathing deep. I note the slight hitch in his voice as he gestures towards the container lying on my lap, unused. I blink dumbfounded.

I glance at the medkit and it's contents. Bandages, cleaning alcohol and a med hypo. What the doctor ordered. Or in this case, the Big Daddy who actually for some reason I can't fathom knows exactly what is going on.

I presumed I was taking too long gawking at him. At least the way he decided to grab me by the front of my sweater and starting to tear it off me indicated such. It was unexpected enough to make me struggle in surprise and with a certain amount of dread. I even managed to hit the back of my head on the wall behind me for good measure, dazing me for a moment.

"Wh-what are you..", I stutter.

He doesn't pay me any mind. He's stumbling, searching for something in the kit. Most of the items there seem so tiny compared to his large fingers, but he finds what he's looking for. He grabs a small brown bottle between his fingers. Despite what you'd expect, the bottle didn't actually shatter under his strength. I realized he was a lot more gentle than he looked. I look at it as he's plucking off the cap, and I realize the bottle is of pure alcohol. I'm feeling a sharp, cold dread come over me. Needless to say, he.. I..

I think he noticed it.

At least, if him holding me down told me anything. Yes. Yes he did.

A whole different flash of panic comes over me, and I grab at his arm, trying to push at him, to no avail. He's an unmovable mountain.

"W-wa-wait a sec.."

Then he pours it all over the wound on my side and I'm screaming like a banshee. It burns like acid. I scream and kick at him even when he shoves one of his digits in my mouth, muffling me. Horrified, I bang my fist against the metal of his armor for him to stop, the pain is unbearable. Tears are building on the corners of my eyes, blurring my vision.

I find myself grasping on his arm, nails clawing and digging into the material of his suit. Whimpers leave my mouth, even with his finger there. There was a taste of salt, rust and something else in my mouth I tried real hard not to think about else I would gag.

Then there's a particularly nasty sting in my gut, and my teeth bore into the leather of his gloves. He either doesn't notice or doesn't care.

It took a moment, but the burning was starting to finally subside. I hadn't realized it, before he took his finger out from between my teeth and I start to loosen my grip on him.

I'm whimpering. I lean forward holding an arm under my chest trying to stable my breathing. And then the shivering starts. Hell, when did it get so goddamn cold?

Then there's something touching me. On the shoulder, to be precise. I raise my head, feeling way too dizzy. Oh right, the Big Daddy who had decided ditch his free time to play nurse. You would think I'd gotten used to this by now.

Now he's holding a med hypo on between his fingers. He's waving it in front of my face like a mischievous mother with a disgusting tasting medicine. I grimace. And that's about the only thing I find time for before I once again find his finger stuffed in my mouth. Not wasting any time he stabs me with the needle right between the ribs making me yelp around his digit. There's the cold liquid pouring in my insides and I'm cringing inward. I almost don't even notice when the pain starts to fade and the rough injury sews itself together. My breathing is heavy and I'm shivering. But I give a long heavy sigh of relief.

He takes his finger out for what I hoped was the last time drawing out a bit of saliva along with it. It's trailing down to my lip and jaw mixing with the older drying blood.

I start staring at him again. There was something that stood out about him and it wasn't the his odd human-like behavior. He looked different. He does have the trademark drill hanging against his hip, but it's clear it's detachable. The yellow light coming out of his helmet was the second thing that made it clear that this, is indeed a big daddy. The light was bright enough to illuminate the dark corner I was currently residing in, making it feel like I was under a spotlight.

I estimate him to be approximate height of seven feet, towering over me even when crouching. He has almost a straight back and a very large frame with over-sized limbs loosely hanging at his sides.

My head is full of questions. All kinds of why's and how's, with no answers to be seen anytime soon if ever. Sure it's impossible. The Big Daddies in general don't seem the talkative sort. Neither does this one, no matter how human he seems.

What shocks me the most, somehow, is that the Big Daddy is staring back. I can't see his face or a possible expression, that is if he could have one. But his posture, it gave me the feeling that he, too was inspecting me if for a very different reason. I doubt there is much normal people left in Rapture these days. The Civil war, the over-abundance of Adam and the resulting Splicers had a way of making sure of that.

I am rooted to the spot, was it fear or anticipation, I don't know. I had become way too accustomed to the Big Daddies in particular, and now I'm not sure how to handle the situation. It was clear, though, that this one in question meant me no harm. He had a moment ago cleaned and healed my injuries, saving me from another trip of death-and-back.

"I..uh.. Thanks", I try to lessen the awkward silence. I didn't expect an answer, but I can feel my heart jump as I hear the low groan coming out of him anyway. Yet, I realized, it wasn't only the suddenness of it. It was the sound. It wasn't the long whale-like drawls of a Big Daddy. It sounded like a man.

"Who are you?", I hear myself ask before I realize it. Go and ask questions from someone incapable of answering.

He stares at me for some time and then he lifting his arm, curling his fingers into a fist, turning it upwards. There is something engraved in to a metal plate on the back of his hand. I squint, to make out the details better.

It was a single triangle. I blink again, confused.

Wait, it's not only a triangle. There was something more to the simplistic symbol, but I couldn't put my finger on it. I had a feeling I had seen it before. In a.. Book?

"Delta?", I try. The creature seems to nod in affirmation.

It's then I note the pair of bars in front of the glass of his view port. There's a painful bang in my chest. I get a weird feeling I had met a kindred spirit. It could be the fact that they looked too much like prison bars.

I lay my arms on my lap lowering my gaze to my wrists. I give a dry, humorless chuckle. Something blocks my view of them, and I stare at the symbol presented in front of me instead. Delta's huge fingers curving over mine, he holds them there, being sure not to hold too much weight on them. It was strange yet somehow comforting. I get a weird feeling of security for the first time since falling in to this hellhole.

A man. A slave. A prisoner. Whatever you wanted to call it. We were only expendable pieces on someone else's board.


End file.
